Friday, 16 June 2017 to Thursday, 22 June 2017
Having arrived in Marseille last night we wanted to sleep in this morning but of course that would have been expensive, we had to move our car by 08:00 or face the wrath of rules and regulations. It was just before 08:00 that we put our Panda into gear and started looking for alternate parking. Now I know I should not jinx my parking luck by repeating it here, but again we found parking about 40 metres up the road from our home… that was luck!

We had no food in the house so walked three blocks up to a decent sized Carrefour… very convenient. I swear Adri is an undercover Irish that goes by the name of Flannagan. Every time we walk into a Carrefour she states that rhetorical question “Can we have flan again?” And of course we can, how can I say no to such a lovely Irish lass?

We stocked up with breakfast and supper stuff and what not… we stopped at two heavy bags. And of course, Adri placed the flan at the very top of the one bag with an admonishment to me to “Keep it horizontal”.

When we received the wifi login details from Marie last night I started connecting up the devices and the wifi performance left much to be desired… much! This is not a personal wifi router but a general one that is used throughout the apartment building and if you are not actively surfing, you lose that connection within about seven minutes. Then you have to log in again and you can consider yourself lucky if you are successful on the seventh attempt. And at the best of times the speed was slow, very slow, clocking in at around 1MB/s. Frustrating…

This morning the wifi was working fine but by early afternoon it was un-usable. I discussed this sorry situation with Marie who was very cool about it, but said she simply could not afford to pay for a separate connection as the apartment is not always utilized. Oh, and by the way, the laptops cannot connect at all; there is something seriously amiss there somewhere. Now you know how I get when I have bad wifi…

Desperate times call for desperate measures so I connected up to the Orange wifi hotspot – which is available to you free of charge if you’re an Orange customer – that seems to be available all over Marseille… Was it not for this I would have gone ape-shit, it was working rather well. But with only one device allowed to connect at a time it meant that, either Adri or I, were left frustrated at any given time. I made a mental note to request a wifi speed test from the landlord before booking apartments in the future.

Having made peace of some sorts with the wifi we spent most of the day chilling and recuperating from our tiring travels during the last weeks.

Marie came around Saturday morning to check whether we needed anything other than good wifi. We showed her the Dear Johnny letter we got from the Society Sociale l’Assurance Maladie in Sète and her verdict was that it was merely rejected because we applied for it too early, i.e. before our first three months was up. Okay, now we know, so we’ll try again while in Marseille.

We went for a midday walk which is never advisable, but of course Adri was keen for me to get some exercise before I tackle my beers while watching rugby in the afternoon. We strolled down to the beach, which is literally one block away, and watched the people, old and young and anywhere in-between, frolicking in the sea and sand.

 

 

While there, an old lady fainted, right in front of us, she just… fainted, probably from the heat. Lifeguards arrived within seconds with a stretcher, checked her over, she was totally unresponsive. When they lifted her limp body onto the stretcher I knew she would be okay. Her left arm was dangling off the edge of the stretcher and onto the rough cement surface, which was obviously uncomfortable, so she moved her arm onto the stretcher, all by herself… Wily old goat; she was probably just too lazy to walk to wherever.

We walked along the coast for a kilometre or so, past a number of restaurants and pubs doubling up as beach clubs, but soon the sun drained from me any will I had to continue. It was around 36°C but it felt hotter. We turned around and at that point I had another blowout.

 

 

As I picked up my right foot to put it forward I felt a strange but not unpleasant cool breeze through my toes, something was wrong. When I looked down I realized that the thong of my right plakka (sandal) had given way with the plakka now dangling from my foot, unhinged, it was hanging on for dear life like a damp limp fish.

Have you ever tried to walk home with a plakka without a thong? Don’t try this at home folks, it’s dangerous and at best very uncomfortable. Adri made a running repair by tying a piece of string she had in her bag – why I don’t know, wasn’t going to ask – around my foot and the bottom of the plakka, replacing the need for a thong, of sorts. I made it home, just.

Later on I watched the rugby, SA again beat France by a rather large margin, and I am just so pleased that they’re playing better rugby than last year… Well, now they are playing rugby.

 

 

 

It was after a couple of beers and the rugby that Adri once again took out the whip for the walk I promised at 19:00. And so it was that we walked up to the Palais du Pharo a few blocks away. The palace was built in 1858 by Napoleon III for Eugénie de Montijo, and I am sure she would also have appreciated the wonderful views from there across to Vieux Port de Marseille. Many families and friends were congregated on the expansive gardens, having picnics in the early evening… with the sun still high in the sky.

We soldiered on along the port where yacht upon yacht was sardine-d in, lying in wait for their owners to tie them loose. And that would no doubt happen shortly as the main summer season was fast approaching.

We sat our bums down on a bench overlooking the port and its yachts and a French bum, a real bum… I mean a real real  bum came to sit next to us. And of course he wanted to make small talk for small change and the more we told him that we did not understand him the more he tried his faltering German on us. I think he forgot that he could speak English.

We walked back the same route but on the other side of the street. There the restaurants were sardine-d in, one after the other, right around the port area spilling into the streets beyond. The sun was setting fast and people were settling in fast at the restaurants and pubs, all of them doing brisk business.

We arrived home and had supper and like a gentleman I offered to do the dishes, but my services were not required. Adri pointed to the dishwasher in the one corner of the kitchen, let’s call him Tertius, I was so grateful to have a doppelganger around.

I continued blogging, still can’t get used to not having proper wifi access from here, and especially from my laptop… man, this is disconcerting, c’est difficile. While sitting on the balcony blogging, Louis Armstrong walked by down below and I was reminded what a wonderful world this is, so I should not complain about my little wifi worries. I looked over the side of the balcony to greet Louis just to find two youngsters with a boom box in a rucksack which held Louis captive. I watched as he and that wonderful world disappeared around the corner.

Sundays in Marseille seems to be more closed than in the Montpellier region, or maybe it’s just me. I’ve been trying all morning yet again to get the laptop connected to wifi but to no avail. I started exploring other options such as buying a mobile wifi router, or mifi router, with a data only sim from Orange. There are options available but of course Orange, like all other fruits in France is closed on a Sunday. This exploration will have to wait for tomorrow.

Before we left SA two years ago I did indeed consider obtaining a mifi router but decided against it at the time, to be reconsidered as and when it became necessary, and it seems that time has now arrived.

It was 13:59 and we have not had breakfast nor lunch. It was 14:00 when breakfast or lunch appeared, not sure why, maybe it also had something to do with the wifi, blame every damn thing on that wifi. The rest of the day we read and relaxed, as best we could… without a decent damn wifi!

Monday morning, as Orange opened their doors I closed in on the first representative I saw and he pointed me to the service desk where a tall thin Frenchman was lying in wait… The waiting was soon over when the tall thin Frenchman determined that he was not going to be able to assist me, our languages were not compatible. I was not encouraged by such an inauspicious start, but, let me be clear up front, Orange was just fantastic today, really fantastic, but I’m getting ahead of myself…

The tall thin Frenchman called somebody that could assist and I must admit, this personable guy pulled every trick on Windows 10 on my laptop that he knew but unfortunately it was just not enough, he could not get us connected to the Orange hotspot. He suggested I come back at 11:00 when his friend, or colleague, will be able to assist me even better.

While waiting for 11:00 we went down the way to the Galleries Lafeyette – where there is a Fnac store – in search of a possible mifi router. But, alas, the woman there was downright rude, she would not even have been prepared to look at my English Google Translate message, she all but chased me out of the store. Fnac you Fnac, now I know where not to shop in the future.

Back at Orange Guillaume, pronounced gijom, was ready to assist. When I had difficulty pronouncing his name he said “Just call me William, that’s English for Guillaume”. Thanks Gijom. He fiddled here and he fiddled there and all of a sudden, my laptop was connected, this was fantastic!

On the way back home I had this niggling doubt whether this solution was going to work back home. My nigglies were not misplaced, it did not work. Argh!

It was hot, I was hot… and bothered, but what could I do, I sauntered back in that sweltering heat, all the way back to Orange and into the arms of Guillaume, my laptop that is. After about 30 minutes of trying different things I finally conceded and told him that I wished to buy a mifi router with a data only sim. I could have that bundle for €49 but he refused me saying “Why should you pay if you can have wifi for free?” And with that he dug into the innards of Windows 10 yet again.

It was shortly after this that he found the problem! It was a conniving little shit-hond son of a bastard bitch VPN parameter setting… If you want to know the technical details of the issue, read on, if you don’t care a hoot, skip the next paragraph…

To fix the issue, access “Network Settings” and choose “Change Adapter Options”. Right Click on “Wireless Network Connection” and select “Properties”. Right Click on “Internet Protocol Version 4 (TCP/IPv4)” and select “Properties”. Make sure that “Obtain an IP address automatically” and “Obtain DNS server address automatically” are both selected. In my case, the “Use the following IP address” and “Use the following DNS server address” options were selected with specific IP and DNS’s specified in there. And that’s when it hit me, the ExpressVPN software I use from time to time probably does not reset these settings once you exit the software… Bummer, but now I know.

After thanking Guillaume and Orange profusely I walked home with a hot spring in my step, it was still in the mid thirties out there and the blazing sun was ablaze. While walking I became aware that America had migrated to Marseille… And I’m not joking, I heard more American spoken on the street than French, and it was as undecipherable. There must have been a passenger ship in town; nothing else could explain this invasion.

A guy on a skateboard, older than what should be the legal limit, I guess he was 43, rolled on downhill, watching everyone around him as he glided past, pulling seriously on a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Now I’m sorry I never learned to use a skateboard, this looked really cool.

And of course, when I got home, that Orange hotspot connected first time, every time, my wifi life was a tad more bearable. Thank you Orange!

It was a slow start to the morning; it was a great start to Tuesday morning. Just after 11:00 we motored out of Marseille heading north, north to my roots. Today was the day I would finally return to my roots where my forbear, Pierre Joubert, came from.

Google map was having an off-day as we headed out of town. All of a sudden it refused to display any detail whatsoever other than the actual route or road you requested to travel on, one wriggly lonesome blue line on the otherwise bare screen. Fortunately no laryngitis could be detected; its voice was in fine fettle.

Not sure what this was about but I’m a details kind of a guy so started up Maps.me which worked just fine, sort of. Maps.me has a slight delay in voice commands, probably something to do with a lower IQ, and invariably I missed many of the exits on the roundabouts.

We hit highways and byways and at some point drove through a large town called Pertuis. Now I don’t mind them using my name, but for heaven’s sake, at least please spell it correctly. How could they manage to replace a “T” with a “P”, and then dyslexically swap the “i” and the “u” around… really!

Leaving Tertius, or Pertuis behind, we finally found the signboard for La Motte d’Aigues, pronounced something like La Mot Dark. Our first stop there was outside of town to take a picture of the signboard, just had to have that.

We drove around the small village and happened to notice the cemetery, that place at the dead centre of town which people are dying to get to. We stopped there and wandered up and down the graves wondering whether we will see any Joubert headstones. There were none although we did find a Jubert and a Jaubert, known alternate spellings of the name Joubert. Just to be clear, I did not expect to find Pierre Joubert’s grave there, else I would have been born here!

We left my town – deciding to come back when it was cooler – to explore further afield and boy, is this Luberon a beautiful area or what? With the mountains as a backdrop and vineyard upon vineyard interspersed with olive groves and sometimes lavender fields, this area is just so beautiful all around. We drove up to a hilltop village called Grambois, then it was on to Mirabeau, then Beaumont, all lovely towns, especially Grambois, after which we backtracked to Pertuis for petrol.

From there it was back to La Motte d’Aigues which is also a lovely small town, not unlike so many others in the region. The sun was still as hot as hell but, it being a bit past midday, it felt a bit better on the brain. We walked around and up and down the little streets and alleyways, wondering which one of these homes belonged to Pierre. La Motte d’Aigues also has a street named after the Joubert clan which is named Rue Jaubert, but the town does not seem to be big on signing their streets, we did not find it… we did not find any street signs for that matter.

Adri asked whether I wanted a beer, she wanted to get out of the sun. We found a Tabac (Tobacco) shop that doubles up as the only pub in town. When I texted Lood that we were having a beer at the only pub in town he was quick to respond, with that usual sharp dry wit he’s known for, “Duidelik bly daar geen meer Jouberts nie… (Clearly no Jouberts live there anymore …)”

The Tabac pub was freezing cold, the beers were colder. When I ordered my second Adri opted to go back to the car, it was just too cold for her in there, I kid you not! For me, this was heaven!

I was still using Maps.me when I entered Marseille in peak hour traffic and ended up on the other side of town. When I entered Marseille again from that side it was with Google Maps, still only presenting me with that thin blue line. This of course reminded me of that wonderful series of Rowan Atkinson by the same name. Enjoy the collection of clips of Inspector Grim, who was always my favourite character, with his killer sayings of “Hoity toity stiff upper lip stiff up your bloody…” Take a look, you’ll see what I mean!

It was past 19:00 when we drove around and down block after block in our hood looking for parking. This continued for about 20 minutes when eventually we hit the jackpot, a short two blocks away from home. Parking… it always is a gamble here.

Wednesday was a scorcher yet again so we kept ourselves busy at home with admin. The sun was still doing its thing at 15:00, but slightly less so, as we headed out along the coast in a general southerly direction and passed by the lovely Plage du Prado that looked, felt and screamed summer holiday! Cars were parked side by side in the street while bodies were parked side by side on the beach, people were having so much fun. Pity we did not bring our costumes with.

We continued on and on along the coast until we reached a boom, and that’s where the road stops, at Callelongue, which is a sleepy little town from where I imagine many walking trails into the Parc National Des Calanques start. There is a lovely pub and restaurant doing bright business but we were not yet ready for a beer, we still had places to go.

 

We then backtracked to Les Goudes where we turned off past the little port and along their little stretch of coastal road and were rewarded with some lovely views and vistas. The white and barren limestone rock faces of the hills and mountains all around reminded us of the Kornati islands in Croatia where we sailed a number of years back, stunningly beautiful in its barrenness, or bareness.

 

We backtracked further back towards Marseille and saw the signboard for Cassis and instinctively turned in that direction, the town was 28km away via a pretty and green winding mountain road. Cassis turned out to be the find of the day, a beautiful and perfectly manicured town with a lovely port with the usual pubs and restaurants that surround it. And the port area is of course where everybody congregates, watching the comings and goings of the yachts, fishing boats, pleasure boats and people.

Cassis cascades down from the green hills above and into the bay and beach below. The place was a hive of activity today. There were two bands playing in the late afternoon sun, the dinking holes were buzzing, this place was definitely a step up from the norm and ready-made for the well heeled. Now we are not from that heely stock but at least we could afford a beer at the La Golfo Restaurant which has a wonderful view across the marina and up the hills beyond. We spent a mesmerizing hour sipping beer and watching strollers stroll by. This felt like holiday.

We spent far too much time here and had to hurry back to the car, it was getting late. Right where we parked is a school or cultural centre of some sorts and there was a show taking place. Kids took turns on stage, either playing the piano or guitar or something, while the parents and the nuuskieriges (curious) were looking on, it was like a mini open air concert.

And just then, from behind this concert, another concert of sorts started up. A pipe band piped up and started strolling down the road into town. As I said, there’s a lot going on in this little gem of a town, we loved this place!

We took the fastest road home, skipping the mountain road and opting for the A50 highway back to Marseille. Driving through the 3km long tunnel Google lost itself and eventually me. As we emerged on the other side I had to keep left, the Panda was going right, and a right royal mess ensued. Not wanting to go back through the tunnel, and back yet again, I thought it best to soldier on through the city.

But, Google insisted I go back through the tunnel. Getting peeved off with it I opened up Maps.me and it found another route that didn’t look quite right to me. So, while getting left and right instructions from two navigation apps simultaneously, with Adri adding a third voice to the ensemble, and me doing my own things, I finally ended up in the bus lane going around the Vieux Port de Marseille. This was not cool. Adri told me to drive faster to get out of the mess quicker, I did. Now I was driving in the bus lane illegally and I was exceeding the speed limit.

And just then I noticed the traffic cop. Uh oh! There was a bus in front of me so I tried to hide behind it, making the Panda seem even smaller than what it already was. But this did not fool this clever cop. He stepped aside, let the bus go by, stepped in front of the Panda, motioning me to pull over. Oh shit!

While the window was on its way down French was flung my way and I started my rhyme of “Je sui désolé…” He was not impressed and asked for my license. Now I knew why we made copies of the licenses and passports and everything else which we kept in the cubbyhole. I fumbled through two sets of papers and after my second fumble found the copy of my license. Then he wanted the car’s rental papers which we found after another scramble and handed that over. Still looking stern he returned our belongings and waved us on, sans ticket, and not surprisingly, sans smile as well. That was a lucky getaway.

It was already 21:00 when we turned down the road one up from us to start searching for parking. Before we really started our search one miraculously appeared in front of us as a car pulled out. Our luck had returned.

Thursday found us on the road again, wanting to complete our sightseeing along the coast between Marseille and Toulon, we were heading for Bandol. As we turned off the highway we stopped for a body break. As per usual I pocketed my Iphone and while relieving some liquid, Google piped up with a stern “Head south”. I smiled; for once I was aiming in the right direction.

Bandol is a lovely holiday town and one immediately feels comfortable there. We strolled along the promenade with a vast array of yachts of all shapes, sizes and budgets at its side. Soon enough we were heading to our next destination.

 

 

 

Saint-Cyr-sur-Mer is lovely but I didn’t quite get it. Part of it seems to be along the coast, the main part seems to lie a bit more inland, but mostly I got peeved when I found a roundabout with an exit pointing into a one-way street, seriously. I was busy making a u-turn in that one-way street when I decided to head on. I’m sure if I took the time to get to know her I would like her, but we had more places to go so we headed on to La Ciotat.

La Ciotat once again is a lovely coastal holiday town and I could easily see myself spending a restful beach holiday here. While driving through town Adri noticed a Spar and ordered me to stop. Apparently I needed a beer and she wanted to sit by the beach for a while.

Adri initially also wanted a beer but when told that the beer she had chosen was the same as I had at home last night, she changed her mind, apparently the Kronenbourg 1664 “Tasted too much like beer”. Go figure, I couldn’t!

We found a bench on the promenade overlooking the beach where people were enjoying quality beach time. I opened my chosen poison, an ice-cold 500ml tin of Hoegaarden. Now you know how I feel about tinned beer, so I had major doubts about drinking my most favourite beer out of that. I was to be pleasantly surprised, this golden white cloudy nectar was super cold, super tasty and super delicious; I might even venture and say it tasted better in the tin than in a glass! But maybe it was just the setting, or maybe it was the sun, but it was great nevertheless!

An hour or so later we were on the move again but it was too early to go home. Of all the little towns along the coast we have seen during the last two days, Cassis remains our favourite, so it did not come as a surprise to us when the Panda headed back in that direction. Driving through Cassis and out the other side we came upon the Notre-Dame du Bon Voyage church up on the ridge at Calanque du port-Miou. There is a beautiful marina situated here within a creek –like setting, I could easily imagine myself in the cockpit of any one of those yachts having a gin and tonic right then.

We then headed back into Cassis proper, walked around town to say our last farewells to this wonderful place, for now. Tonight was much more relaxed than yesterday, it seems like Wednesdays are the happening day. Man, I could clearly see myself living there, until I looked at the prices of properties, then my vision became murky.

 

 

Tonight was the first time we really struggled to find parking, we really did. Up and down and around we drove for about an hour before a car pulled out in front of us as we slowly nosed our way around the hood. This was a rather draining experience but well worth it, the parking was a mere 30 metres from home.

But maybe we leant a lesson tonight, not sure yet. We arrived in town at around 20:00 and there was still heavy traffic around. We noticed at around 20:45 that there was suddenly much less traffic and that’s when we got lucky. Seems that around 21:00 is about the best time to search for parking, the same time we easily found parking the other night.

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